


Instrumental

by Harpalyke



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Medea - Euripides
Genre: Cunnilingus, Drugged Sex, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/F, Hair-pulling, Loss of Innocence, Multiple Orgasms, Praise Kink, mild spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:00:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28040529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harpalyke/pseuds/Harpalyke
Summary: When a strange woman appears with a sweet berry and even sweeter words, Princess Glauce is transported to the heavens. Unfortunately, her descent back to Earth is an abrupt one when she learns that strange woman's identity.
Relationships: Glauce | Creusa/Medea (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23
Collections: Consent Issues Exchange 2020





	Instrumental

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ciexmod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ciexmod/gifts).



The time of day Princess Glauce of Corinth liked best was in the evenings. The sun went away, so she could step out onto her balcony and listen to the ocean waves crash upon the shore, breathing in the salty air. In the evenings, she didn’t have to show off her beauty to anyone except herself in the mirror. 

As the servant brushed out her long, golden hair, Glauce studied her own reflection. Soon, she would be wrapped in dresses of purple with flowers weaved in her braided hair, ready to give her hand to Jason of Iolcos. Glauce didn’t understand why him, since she’d met him only once and hadn’t found him as impressive as his reputation, but Daddy told her he would suit her nicely. And no one knew better than King Creon. She only hoped this supposed war hero would treat her as well as Daddy did. 

The servant set down the brush and bade the princess goodnight. Alone at last, she rose and approached the mirror, still studying herself. Slowly, she slipped out of her skirts and stood naked, her hair falling in sheets to her waist and covering her budding breasts. Blonde, fair-skinned, and blue-eyed, Princess Glauce was known as the most beautiful in all of Corinth, especially now at age fourteen, on the cusp of womanhood. Hopefully, her body would catch up; in her opinion, she still resembled a little girl.

A breeze from the sea flowed in through the balcony doors, gently brushing her hair across her bare chest. Her pink, pebble-like nipples grew stiff, and a thrumming started up between her legs. Unconsciously, her hand grazed the lower lips peeking out of her newly-grown peach fuzz, intensifying the heat blooming inside of her. Her mother had told her once that this spot was reserved for her husband and that she would somehow use it for child-bearing. 

A flush crept to Glauce’s fair cheeks. She didn’t know why she suddenly felt shameful and exposed here alone. Her solution was to crawl into bed and wrap herself up in the sheet despite the warm, humid air. The area between her legs was still pulsing, distracting her from the usual wedding ceremony fantasies. Now she skipped those entirely, jumping to the consummation with Jason, when he’d run his hands over her smooth skin and pull bits of her neck between his lips… 

She must have fallen asleep like that, because when she opened her eyes again, she’d kicked her feet out of the sheet entanglement and mashed her cheek into her hair. Brushing it back, she let out a bleary sigh and glanced around. The sun was still long gone and no moon—the darkness beyond the balcony pressed into the room.

“Hello, little princess,” said an unfamiliar female voice, causing her to jump. Bewildered, she whipped her head around until her eyes fell upon a figure she hadn’t noticed before. Her arms grappled with the sheet to cover her chest.

“Who’s there?” Glauce’s voice came out high-pitched and wavering. She swallowed hard and mustered up a semblance of the commanding tone Daddy used: “Show yourself at once!” 

The woman chuckled and stepped forward. Whereas in the shadows the shapely figure had been blacker than black, now she seemed to hold a glow independent of the starlight. Her skirts were nothing of note, but she strode forward with a regality even Glauce hadn’t learned yet. She was quite tall, her breasts and hips filled out by child-bearing—she must have been one of the villagers who lived nearby. Yet her face was unblemished and striking, her hair long like Glauce’s own except darker and curling around her arms and bosom. 

“Who are you?” Glauce asked, mesmerized, as the woman approached her. 

“My name is Medea,” she said in a much softer tone than her previous words. Now with her much closer, Glauce picked up an odd accent. 

“Where do you come from?” 

The woman, Medea, didn’t answer. She sat upon the bed, reached out, and tucked Glauce’s hair behind her ear. “My, aren’t you fair. Little wonder he can’t resist you.” 

Glauce wanted to ask who, but the impulse was dissolved in the heat of the touch, raising tiny bumps on her bare, exposed skin. Medea likely wouldn’t have told her who, anyway. 

“I-I don’t understand,” she stammered, feeling herself start to relax. “Why are you here?” 

Again, Medea didn’t answer, cupping Glauce’s face and stroking her cheek. “So pretty,” she murmured, “like a little doll. Interesting that the princess happens to be the most beautiful in Corinth. It doesn’t always align, you see.” 

Glauce nodded like she knew what Medea was talking about. Her head had gone fuzzy, her face tilted into Medea’s palm. The woman produced a berry out of nowhere and popped it into Glauce’s mouth. Under normal circumstances, she would’ve spit it out, but the berry melted in her mouth and filled it with the sweetest juice she’d ever tasted. She swallowed it all. In her belly, it generated a warmth that quickly spread through her whole body. 

Intensifying this was Medea’s hand in her hair, following the flow of it down her neck and shoulder. She was so close, close enough to see Glauce shudder with pleasure as well as feel it under her palm. 

“Does that feel nice, sweet girl?” Medea asked, a grin spreading her full lips. Rather than softening sharp features, as smiles often did, it made her appear wicked, scheming. Not any less beautiful. 

Glauce nodded again, the back of her head meeting her pillow. She blinked, and Medea’s hair fell around her, blocking out all else but their lips joining. Lying completely still, she wondered what on Earth to do. She liked the feel of the woman’s mouth probing hers, her hands cupping her pert breasts. 

“No,” she tried to mumble through the kiss without fighting, without meaning. 

Medea pulled away and propped herself up on an elbow, trailing her hand down Glauce’s belly while Glauce’s mind slowly shut down. In contrast, the area between her legs awakened and began to pulse like earlier in the night. 

“I don’t—I—I will soon be a bride.” She barely heard herself over the roar of the ocean. By now, she wasn’t sure if it was from the actual waves or from inside her own head. 

“Ah, but do you think your husband will touch you like this?” Medea’s hand grazed lower lips nestled between slim thighs, already damp. She leaned in, gently clutching Glauce’s jaw and speaking against her mouth. “Do you think he’ll take the time to calm you, to really enjoy you?” 

Glauce let out a sigh in response, feeling herself give in. Yes, it was odd and wrong to let this strange woman touch her like this, but she, too, was enjoying herself. Her thighs parted, allowing Medea to sink two fingers into her. At first she merely held them there, tilting Glauce’s head up to nip at her neck. Then she began to pump in and out, conjuring juices until the young girl’s sweet scent won out over the salt of the sea in the air. 

“What a sweet, pretty little princess,” Medea coaxed as Glauce writhed beneath her, letting out squeal-cries. The waves in her ears, her scent in her nose, Medea’s breath on her neck, her fingers reaching deep into her, burning her up… It was all too much, but in a good way—in an  _ amazing _ way—arching her back, clamping her inner walls, thrusting her hips… 

“Oh—oh—oh,” she cried, sort-of wondering what was happening but not really caring, because it felt  _ so good, _ like her tether to Earth would snap and she’d float into the night while juices spurted out of her, raining upon the land below. 

With a smirk, Medea pulled her fingers out and moved lower until her curls tickled Glauce’s trembling thighs. Her tongue, which had felt so soft and yielding against Glauce’s own, licked firmly up her soaked folds, pressing a nestled button that made Glauce cry out. 

Medea rose, still with that smirk except it was glistening now with Glauce’s juices. “Turn over, princess.” 

It took a minute for Glauce to understand what she was supposed to do. With the help of Medea’s hands, now clawing and semi-frantic, she positioned herself on her hands and knees. The sheet slid off her rear, gathering in the crooks of her knees. After a momentary flurry of movement behind her, again she felt Medea’s tongue on her folds, her lips closing around them. 

“Mmm,” Glauce moaned into her palm, not wanting to wake up the whole kingdom. The moans kept coming, punctuated by a yelp as she felt a sharp slap against her rear. 

“What a filthy little thing,” Medea’s voice was hissing behind her. “There is no point to holding back how much you love this, princess. I’m going to make you come so hard, you’ll find yourself in Elysium, and I want to _ hear _ it.” 

Before Glauce could react, a hand gripped her hair and tugged, while three fingers of the other thrust into her. They stretched her, causing her to scrunch her face up and let out a squeak of pain. But when they began to move in and out, and the fist around her hair began to pull, bearing down on her back, the all-consuming pleasure returned stronger than before. 

Remembering Medea’s command, Glauce closed her eyes, raised her rear, and let the moans tumble from her open mouth. The pain between her legs was all but gone, Medea’s fingers more than welcome inside of her. Her scalp stung as her hair tugged her head further back, but this, too, was welcome. Soon the ecstasy snaking outward from her core had her all wrapped up in its snare, squeezing her whole body before release. 

“Oh, gods!” she howled, gripping the bed sheet and driving her hips back to keep those fingers so deep and the thumb to keep sliding against the small, tight hole in the rear. Only seconds into this, something just under her womb broke, and juices poured out of her. Whereas the last climax had trickled into the creases of her thighs and rear, this one brought a flood splashing out from her swollen slit. Another slap, almost as an afterthought, and then Medea’s hands were off of her. 

Breathing heavily and shaking hard, Glauce collapsed onto the bed and rolled over, grasping for Medea, groping an ample breast. Medea gently took Glauce’s hand away and placed it at her side, stroking her hair from her flushed face. “I must go now.” 

“No—please—please don’t…” The irony of begging for more when she’d nearly rejected Medea’s touch was not lost on her. But Glauce hadn’t understood what lovemaking was before now. Little wonder everyone’s decisions were influenced so strongly by it, including her own. 

Medea didn’t leave immediately; the stroking and caressing—and a soft, quick kiss on the mouth—continued until Glauce’s eyes sank closed on their own accord. The sheet was replaced over a body so still she could’ve been dead, and just like that, Medea had gone. 

This time when Glauce awakened, it was actually morning. The bizarre events trickled back into her memory, both arousing and horrifying at the same time. It had to have been a dream, she decided. It was too odd; she would’ve never let that happen. 

She managed to entirely convince herself until she sat up and felt the tiniest pinch of pain between her sticky thighs. Swallowing down her thumping heart, Glauce seized her skirts and pulled them on, her mind racing with questions.  _ How on Earth could this have happened? And who _ is _ she?  _

For the former, she would most likely never have an answer. The latter was answered later that same day, when King Creon deemed the sky cloudy enough to take his daughter for a walk through the gardens. 

Glauce loved looking at the soft blues and whites and yellows of the flowers, reaching out to graze them with her fingertips every so often. King Creon held her other hand, not speaking. He bit his lip, pensive, and looked mostly in the direction of the sea: He was preoccupied with something. 

“What’s wrong, Daddy?” she asked, tugging on his hand as if to bring him back to Earth. 

“Nothing, sweetheart,” he answered, still not looking at her. 

With Medea’s face in her mind and the hope she would catch a glimpse of it somewhere in these fields, Glauce didn’t question his behavior until they noticed the guardsman up ahead. He spotted them at the same time and hurried over. 

“My king, I have news you may want to hear right away,” he said, which caused the king to release Glauce’s hand and walk away, leaving her alone surrounded by hedges. 

She tried to tune them out, focusing on the sounds of waves so close, she only had to take a few steps onto the cliff to see their roiling, writhing form. Just as she had the idea to ask Daddy if they could walk that way, she overheard him ask, “Are you sure it’s her?” 

“Oh, yes,” the guardsman replied. “Jason’s wife. That  _ witch.”  _

Glauce frowned, unsure if she’d heard correctly. Jason’s wife?  _ She _ was Jason’s wife, or about to be. 

“She must accept that this marriage will come to be, or I will have to banish her from Corinth,” the king said. “I do understand Medea’s plight, but ultimately, Jason has chosen my daughter, and who am I to turn away a chance to bring even more glory to this kingdom?”

The air stilled, the sky darkened, and the tiny bumps coating Glauce’s skin returned. Except these were not from pleasure but a mixture of confusion, rage, and sorrow. Medea was Jason’s current wife, who had sought Glauce out not to make love to her, but to avenge Jason’s betrayal of his prior marriage. 

And that choice was made because Jason wanted not her but the security and high-powered position Corinth would give him. She herself was not a factor in either of their decisions. At the age of fourteen, Princess Glauce became aware of her role in the world: as an instrument for others to meet their own goals.  _ A pretty little doll, _ Medea had called her. 

Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall, refused to speak to her father or hold his hand. Too preoccupied with Medea, King Creon didn’t notice his daughter’s unusual withdrawal. Back to her balcony she was sent, where the servant was waiting to help her change out of her skirts and brush her hair back into place. She sat docile, letting herself be pulled through the motions, all while brimming with hatred and fighting back tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She hated them  _ all.  _

However, when the sun left and she was able to peer over the balcony, it was Medea’s curvy figure she was looking for, hoping to catch creeping through the fields, returning to her. And when she was cocooned in her sheets, it was Medea’s scent she ached to recall and Medea’s hand she replaced with hers when she touched her tender flesh, which had already grown wet by the time she reached between her legs. 


End file.
